


let's pretend

by sovietghoststories (lucid_lies)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Football, F/M, Frat Boy Bucky, Idiots in Love, Pining, Student Bucky Barnes, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucid_lies/pseuds/sovietghoststories
Summary: Two idiots and a whole lotta mush with some bumps along the way. From freshman to senior year [College AU] [Fuckboy/Fratboy Bucky]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I started to write for fun. It’s not meant to be serious, its just something I’ll write when I need to take a break from everything else I’m working on.

“Really, Barnes? How old are you again?”   
  
Y/N cocks a brow, the beginnings of a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Lounging across from her like King of the Castle, doodling cartoon dicks in the margins of his notes, is her study partner. Bucky Barnes, one of the best players on the freshman football team and fuckboy extraordinaire, is the bane of her existence. 

Besides being inept and incredibly immature, her final grade hinges on his performance of which she’s not incredibly confident in. Every time they’ve met up, Barnes has stayed aloof, half paying attention or straight up ignoring her. He has a nasty habit of checking his phone right when she’s in the middle of a sentence. It’s like everything goes in one ear and out the other, and if his current test scores are any indication, it would appear to be true.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Bucky flashes her a smile and a wink. “Why, worried you’re too old for me, Dollface?”    
  
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Y/N scowls, kicking out at his ankle under the table. “Don’t call me that.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sure thing…Dollface.”   
  
That’s enough. 

After weeks of dealing with him and his piss-poor, high school jock attitude, she’s done. Him and his goldfish attention span can go get fucked. Y/N slams her book closed, fellow students in the vicinity jumping at the sound.   
  
Barnes startles out of his slouch, the colour draining from his face and his expression going slack like a man who’s just realized they’ve pushed a button too many. His mouth opens and closes several times, the thoughts of how to fix this before it’s begun flying past his eyes. 

It’s too little too late.   
  
“Why are you so – ugh! This is impossible, I can’t do this, I  **won’t**  do this. Especially when it’s clear you think all of this is bullshit.”  
  
“Shit, Y/N, that’s not–”  
  
“No, zip it. I’m done, I don’t wanna hear it, Barnes.”   
  
Shooting up from the chair, Y/N grabs up everything that’s hers, stuffing it into her bag in a flurry of activity, a raging tornado in the otherwise quiet library. “I’ll tell Professor Banner you need a new tutor on Monday.”   
  
“Wait, no, no, no! Stay, don’t go, I’m sorry. " 

She ignores him, heart thumping against her ribs and rage pulsing through her veins. The corner of her eye’s twitching, brows drawn in and cheeks burning. She can’t bring herself to listen to his pleas, frantic and rushed as he stumbles to his feet, trying to keep up with her brisk pace as she storms out into the atrium. Her heated rant fills the tense spaces between them.   
  
"Y/N!”   
  
Fingers ghost over the curve of her forearm, pinching at the fabric of her sleeve in a gentle attempt at stopping her exit.   
  
“What!” She snaps, jerking her arm away from his touch and glaring into his glossy blue eyes with hellfire intensity. “What do you possibly have to say, Barnes? Haven’t you wasted enough of my time already?”   
  
The bob of his adam’s apple is oddly satisfying, and a heat gathers low in her belly. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until his voice cracks through the silence following her outburst.   
  
“I - that is – fuck I’m screwing this all up.” A hand scrubs over his face, fingers knotting in the swoop of his bangs and tugging roughly. “Y/N, I’m trying to say I’m sorry. Please don’t go, I need - I need your help, okay? There’s no way I’ll pass without you.”   
  
Her brow’s still wrinkled but the tension around her mouth lessens. Teeth bite at the patches of dry skin on her lips, and her eyes bounce around the room, noticing that they’ve stopped somewhere in the middle. They’re getting subtle looks, nosy busybodies trying to lowkey eavesdrop.   
  
Clearing her throat, Y/N tilts her head back towards the tables, his stuff still spilling across several sections, conveniently blocking anyone else from sitting nearby. She meets his gaze briefly, quickly redirecting her attention to the scuffs in her shoes.   
  
She doesn’t know what to do with the panic and desperation staring her in the face everytime she looks at him, and she’s sure as hell not ready to unpack what that particular expression of his means. She files it away for observation never.  
  
Sighing through her nose, Y/N relents and says, “…Let’s just finish the chapter.”   
  
Standing in the face of his beaming smile is a lot like standing in front of the sun. She has to squint he’s so blinding, a flush settling over the bridge of his nose. He’s so earnest and eager. It’s oddly endearing. There’s a flutter deep in her chest and her stomach gives an almighty lurch when she takes the time to notice the cut of his jaw, the ocean of his eyes, the softness of his cheeks. It’s the face of a boy slowly becoming a man, and it shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.   
  
 _Oh no, absolutely **N-O-T**._

Squashing any flattering thoughts about one James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Y/N pretends not to notice how tender his eyes get whenever he looks at her or the quick, contemplative glance he spares her free-swinging hand. Fingertips skate over the bare skin of her wrist, his fingertips pressing down gently. She pretends their imprint doesn’t burn her down to the bone, a spark of heat that lingers for days. And she certainly, absolutely pretends that it doesn’t make her  _want_  - make her crave the silk of his touch, the kiss of his lips, the stretch of his cock.  
  
 _Gotta fake it til you make it, right?_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Several Weeks Later_ **

* * *

It’s 3 PM on a Saturday and Y/N finds herself in the last place she ever expected; sitting across from Barnes at Valhalla, the pancake house in their little college town. Hunched over his plate, the bonehead shoves forkful after forkful of pancake into his mouth. His eating habits leave much to be desired, it’s like he hasn’t eaten in days.

Grimacing, Y/N watches helplessly as the beast of a boy devours his food and makes a mess of their table. The poor waitress is going to have a hell of a time cleaning up. She silently vows to leave a large tip and steadfastly refuses to watch the slide of a tongue across lips sticky with syrup, shoves down the rush of heat that follows. Barnes might look like a harmless college freshman with his tousled curls, low hanging sweats and rumpled t-shirt but Y/N knows better. 

_Those types are always the same._

What she doesn’t know is how this became her life in a matter of weeks. She’s casually sharing a booth with one of the most popular people in her year and she’d rather be anywhere else. 

Barnes used to be nothing but a concept, some hot shot jock with his whole life ahead of him. Now she’s got a face for the name, uncomfortably aware of who he is. She sees his face in the crowd, hears his voice through the clamour of fellow students, her ears attuned to his particular pitch and timber. 

Y/N’s more than ready for whatever this is between them to stop. She doesn’t like what it’s doing to her, how it’s making her feel, how desperately she  **wants**  to like Barnes because he’s just that damn charming. It’s hard not to get sucked up into his gravitational pull.   
  
”Why are we here, Barnes?” Shifting, Y/N crosses her ankles, finally asking the question that’s hovered on the tip of her tongue since his random text this morning. “You said you wanted to study.”   
  
Rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth, Barnes pauses and pushes away the half-cleared plate, “Well, yeah, but I was hungry.” 

Thickly corded forearms flex as they rest on top of the table. She pretends not to track his movements; the tapping of his thumb, the shuffle of his feet as they bump into hers. He’s too large for the booth, forced to spread out across the two-seater, thighs splayed. It would be comical if it didn’t mean that there’s no real choice but to tangle their legs together under the table.   
  
Warmth blooms everywhere they’re pressed together, and the scent of his cologne hovers in the air. He smells like sweat and musk, a wild curl falling into the whirlpool of his eyes. Y/N’s fingers twitch, almost following the urge to reach out and brush it away. 

“This saves time, yeah?”

It’s rhetorical but she feels churlish and bitter about her fate, her inability to ignore him completely, how he burrows under her skin and no matter what she does, she can’t get rid of him.  
  
”No, not really, Barnes. I’ve spent the last half hour watching you stuff your face,” she bites out, spitting fire with her eyes. “All you’ve done is waste my time. We could have met up after, I didn’t have to tag along while you grab lunch.”   
  
”You don’t have to lie, Y/N,” he says with a wink. “I know you want to spend time with me.”

_That arrogant son of a –_

Y/N rolls her eyes. It’s not worth it even though she’d love nothing more than to smack that smug expression off his stupid face. “As if. You’re not as special as you think you are.”  
  
His eyes glitter playfully, the boyish smile he shoots her way as disarming as it is charming, lopsided at the corners with the barest hint of teeth. “You’re always so mean to me.” 

Heat travels up her neck and settles in the apples of her cheeks. She averts her gaze and scoffs, feeling the full force of having his undivided attention, a butterfly pinned to a board. “Whatever, Barnes.” 

Silence, painful and awkward, stretches between them. The din of the diner hums lowly in the background. The distance between them in that moment feels insurmountable, full fo sharp points and poisoned words. There’s a bone-deep ache taking root in her chest.     
  
She rubs it away.   
  
Right as she’s about to apologize, and really why should she, she didn’t do anything wrong, Barnes leans in. He glances down at the plastic menu in front of her, lips twitching. His proximity is dizzying; the thud of her heart over loud, her head full of cotton.   
  
“How about we even the fields, why don’t you get something to eat?” he teases, voice low and unexpectedly intimate. “I’ll sit and watch you for half an hour.”

It’s like they’re having two different conversations. She’s having a hard time figuring out exactly what it is that he wants from her, what she’s meant to be doing.   
  
“I’d rather not.” 

He looks pleased with himself, sitting back. His fingers dance along the rim of his plate. “Here, have mine then.” The pancakes find their way to her place setting, a golden mess. “After all, it’s only fair.”   
  
“I –” 

Words get stuck on the back of her tongue, her stomach doing somersaults as she stares down at Barnes’ offering. Her acceptance seems like a bigger deal than it should be.

It’s just half-eaten pancakes and yet…  
  
“Go on, Y/N. They’re good, trust me.” 

_Trust you?_

_Hah._

The taste of syrup sits heavy on her tongue, overly sweet and sticky. 


End file.
